


After Sunrise

by tiggeryumyum



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-11
Updated: 2011-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiggeryumyum/pseuds/tiggeryumyum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slow, loving sex on a beach somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Sunrise

**Title** : After Sunrise  
 **Rating** : NC-17  
 **Prompt** : Klavier/Apollo, please. Slow, loving sex on a beach somewhere. :D

"I woke up and you were gone."

The accusation is groggy, Apollo is half awake, slouching in on himself slightly as he clings to the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"Ah, you looked so peaceful I couldn't bring myself to wake you," Klavier says. He holds out his arms and Apollo drops into them, settling on the sand between Klavier's legs, squirming as he's hugged to Klavier's chest. Klavier rarely beats Apollo awake, but the room they've rented for their two week vacation has a private entrance to the beach, and the sound of the waves is like a soothing, living thing that makes Klavier feel impossibly energized, recharging him as he sleeps.

They watch the waves, and the sun just beginning to rise. Or, Klavier does, and Apollo drifts back to sleep as Klavier cards his fingers through his short, messy hair, which is soft and with strands fine enough to give very little resistance when Klavier combs out a few of the tangles.

"Are you ready to admit I was right?" Klavier asks. Apollo had fought the idea of a vacation tooth and nail, let alone one that meant traveling out of the city and not being able to conveniently stop in the Wright office and _maybe doing a little of the paperwork while I'm here?_

"Mmm," Apollo agrees, but it's entirely possible he has no idea what Klavier is talking about. He's melting against his chest, tilting his head to offer Klavier a smile.

It's his sedated smile. His satisfied smile. His well-fucked smile, one that Klavier was only acquainted with three months into their intimate relationship. It was the first time Klavier had topped, and Apollo had melted for it, moaning and mindless, and smiled in a pleased (and rather flattering, for Klavier) daze in the aftermath.

Klavier thinks part of it was relief. He'd been so -- well, _scared_ , frankly, of being penetrated. Apollo doesn't like to talk about his past, and Klavier didn't want to push. When Apollo visibly paled at the idea of being fucked, Klavier had happily rolled over and took it, having no problem with bottoming.

It had been satisfying, of course, but nothing compared to the first time Klavier had been allowed to fuck Apollo with his fingers. Klavier watched, entranced, as Apollo fucked himself down onto Klavier's hand, memorizing each moan, each surprised gasp, each twitch of his hips, he knew replaying this in his mind would be a staple in his masturbation regimen. And it was, until he finally entered Apollo properly, fucking him into the mattress, and every previous sexual conquest instantly paled in comparison, blown out of the water.

From how Apollo had screamed, clinging to Klavier with everything in him, coming hard enough to nearly pass out, Klavier can only imagine he felt the same.

It's hard to imagine that they went three months without it, now, for how wild they go for it. Klavier can rarely go a week without needing to push Apollo down, sink into his body. It's become an almost literal craving, the taste of Apollo, the sound of Apollo, the feel of slowly fucking, forcing Apollo's tightness -- and his fussiness, buttoned collars and knotted ties, careful penmanship, shined shoes, tailored waistcoat -- open and loose, scattering his higher thought processes to the wind, until all he can do is drool and moan against the mattress, taking it.

"Oh. Klavier," Apollo says, noticing Klavier's cock, growing thicker and harder against his back. Klavier humps him once, playfully, deciding to let Apollo dictate how this will play out. He wants to fuck Apollo, of course, but he's also comfortable sitting here, heat thrumming lazily and pleasantly through his limbs, Apollo pressed against his crotch.

The beach is empty, private, barely past the dim blue of twilight, but Apollo still glances around before shifting. He takes the blanket off his shoulders, wrapping it around his front, before pushing back, ass flush against Klavier's cock.

"Still wet, _spatzi_? Hm?" Klavier asks, bringing his fingers down to find out. Yes, he is still wet, still loose, from their fucking last night, which was actually just a few hours ago. Apollo moans at the sound of the lewd question, his lewd fingers, then sighs quietly as he slowly sinks down onto Klavier's cock, resting in his lap proper.

They still then, both adjusting to the sensation and it would look so innocent from a distance, if you could ignore the blanket tenting because of Apollo's own erection.

" _Klavier_ ," Apollo moans quietly when Klavier begins stroking him, trembling slightly. Shaking loose his tight bits, his composure, everything that keeps him from baring himself to Klavier completely. Klavier hopes to fuck him as much as it takes to keep those shields down, til it takes him hours to pull himself together, so he can gaze at Klavier with that well-fucked, delirious smile for ages. He's greedy with Apollo, he knows, but can't help it. He's truly never felt like this with anyone, not any _thing_ , not music or justice.

He decides to tell Apollo this, his plans for this vacation, biting and nipping at Apollo's ear as he does, " _I'm going to fuck you open, Apollo. You're going to cry for me, yeah? You're going to feel me for days, until you always melt at my touch, until you can't breath without me in you._ "

"Yes," Apollo nods, sobbing as if he could understand it, spreading his legs wide, on either side of Klavier, arching his back when he starts moving, a slow, proper fucking. "Kl-Klavier," his voice is getting tight, shaky, raspy. "I - you -"

"Shh," Klavier says, knowing what he's trying to say, rocking his hips up, bouncing Apollo lazily. "Love you, more than anything. My Apollo."

"Yes, ah, love," Apollo is nodding frantically, riding Klavier hard, clenching wildly, like he can't stand parting with Klavier's cock, even for a moment.

He comes with what might have been an attempt at Klavier's name, tight all over before spilling against Klavier's chest like a puppet with its strings cut, breathing in deep, shuddering huffs of air, moaning at the feel of Klavier thrusting up harder, using his limp, spent body to coax out his own orgasm.

Klavier tingles in the aftermath, feeling blown apart himself. They pet each other as they slowly come back down to themselves, slowly.

"Back to bed," Apollo says. Being fucked turns Apollo into such an indulgent creature, sleepy and needy, always grabbing for Klavier before he can fall asleep properly. Klavier likes him like this, and cradles him to his chest, kissing the top of his head.

"In a moment," he says. After sunrise.


End file.
